


Look At Those Moonbeams In Her Wake

by thelilacfield



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After six months of recovery in Wakanda, Wanda's spirits seem to lift overnight, rousing the suspicions of her teammates. As months pass and she takes to disappearing, covering her hours of absence with thin excuses, the group come together to exchange their suspicions and hope that she will tell them who she keeps sneaking off to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look At Those Moonbeams In Her Wake

**A/N:** So I'm back with another self-indulgent post- _Civil War_ fic! Hope that everyone enjoys this shameless tropey-ness! :) Title from  _She's In Love_ from Broadway's  _The Little Mermaid_.

* * *

The first six months in Wakanda seem to fly by. Days of exploring the sprawling grounds of the palace, all of the process of getting to know T'Challa and the country itself, the endless grumbling from Scott and Sam about the irreplaceable suits currently residing in military custody and the long process of keeping Steve from falling off the knife edge between despair and acceptance of Bucky's decision all vanish into memory as fast as they happen. They take up training again, injuries at last healed, and work together as an easy team, Scott falling into step with the rest of them quicker than Natasha could've believed. It's never difficult to find him with Sam and Clint, laughing about something or other, making jokes and laughing to himself even if no one else does. Steve spends fewer nights sleeping on the floor of the room where Bucky sleeps under the ice, actually interacting with the rest of the team.

To be honest, the only person within their group that Natasha is still worried about is Wanda. No one talks a lot about what happened to them in the Raft - the men gloss over the topic with vague remarks and only their eyes to betray their true feelings - but she doesn't need to hear it to know that they were treated terribly. Even seeing them when she and Steve arrived to break them out broke her heart, seeing her found family so hopeless. She's known Clint to take torture for hours when captured by enemies, never breathing a word no matter what atrocities were committed towards him - but he's never been betrayed by people he's chosen to place his trust in.

But the men recovered - though sometimes the quiet of the nights is broken by screaming nightmares, and the sufferer spends the early morning quiet and withdrawn. Wanda still moves like a shadow in the palace, speaking only when spoken to, her responses quiet and monosyllabic. Every desperate glance between herself and Sam or Steve or Clint can only be met with helpless shrugs - they haven't known her like this since Sokovia, a time when they were all preoccupied with the changing team line-up and the move from Stark Tower to the compound and a hundred and one other things. They watch her silent and pale as a ghost, jumping when someone says her name and cringing away from touches, unable to even think of using her powers. It's horrifying, to see her so broken.

Clint is happy to talk with her, trying to help, and they give him the space he needs. The day Natasha returns from a sparring session with T'Challa - with Scott yelling her on from the sidelines - she walks past their common room to see him sitting quietly with Wanda, her face hidden in his shoulder. But she's sitting still, not shaking with tears, and when Clint sees Natasha he gives her a silent smile. After a suitable wait, Natasha allows herself to be heard walking into the kitchen, given an opportunity to offer them both a share of the coffee she starts, and when Steve and Sam return from their run in the punishing heat of the jungle they find that Scott has joined the trio. The TV is tuned to a cooking channel, the white-toothed host demonstrating how to make a perfect pie crust, and though Wanda isn't smiling there's something joyous playing in her eyes, her fingers woven around her mug and Clint's hand set gently on her knee.

That's the point when things begin to turn.

* * *

The sunrise above the tangled trees glows as gold as any jewellery, and Natasha traces the smudged silhouette of Steve, running into the dawn, and grins to herself. "You want bacon, Nat?" comes Scott's cheerful voice behind her, and she turns to the team. Sam is comfortably ensconced in the cosiest armchair, reading a Wakandan history book; Clint is sketching what appears to be a battle formation on the back of a flight plan, brow furrowed in concentration; and Scott is standing at the oven, the pan crackling and the kettle bubbling.

"Count her out," Clint answers for her. "Tasha can't stomach more than coffee before eleven."

"No matter how much Steve nags," Sam adds with a wink in Natasha's direction. Scott shrugs and returns to turning bacon, Clint and Sam's eyes gleaming at the scent, chuckling fondly at Natasha pointedly wrinkling her nose.

"Smells amazing, Scott." The voice has them all turning, and Natasha notices Scott's jaw momentarily drop before he pulls himself together. Wanda looks almost like her old self, bright cardigan over her dark dress, the familiar necklace at her throat, hair loose over her shoulders, and she's _smiling_. Clint is beaming with pride, moving along the couch to give her a seat, but suspicions rise in Natasha's mind, and she accosts Steve when he comes back from his run. T'Challa and Sam are talking over their food, the king and their friend having returned from forced diplomacy in his early morning meetings, and Wanda is laughing at a long-winded story Scott is telling her and Clint about his friends.

"Have you seen Wanda this morning?" she hisses, the two of them standing by the back door that leads directly into the quarters T'Challa set them up in.

Steve looks at her, then says, "You've been saying for months that you were worried about her not improving. Look at her, she's improved."

"But a little too dramatically," Natasha pushes, and Steve shakes his head. "I know T'Challa offered her some help from a therapist, and she's been seeing and talking with them, but she seems to have made a pretty big leap forward." Biting briefly at the inside of her cheek, she sighs and says, "You don't think-"

"No," Steve says immediately, cutting across what she was going to ask. "There's only one number to get in touch with us, and Tony's the only one who has it. T'Challa has been very careful keeping us hidden. No one from outside Wakanda is able to reach us."

"But it's not difficult to figure out where we are, Steve," she presses, and he sighs. "I know you want to think that we're invincible here, but Tony isn't stupid. T'Challa is off the radar and no one can trace us - that calls for some suspicion. He could just drop in on us if he wanted."

"Too stubborn," Steve says gruffly, and Natasha rolls her eyes. "Look, we just have to be happy. We've all been worried about her, and even if this is just today that she's like this she's moving forward. That's all any of us can do." Then he notices the coffee cup in her hand, and sternly says, "Eat something."

Returning to the team in the common room, Natasha shoves some bread in the toaster to deter Steve from giving her his patented stern look across the room and watches Wanda. Clint catches her eye at one point and shrugs, and laughs as Wanda concludes a story about Sam that has the man himself shouting, "She's exaggerating!" and Scott howling with mirth. Watching the youngest member of their team grinning at her audience, Natasha decides to lay her suspicions aside for now. But she'll be keeping a close eye on the development of the situation.

* * *

The sky has been dark all day with the clouds crowding over the jungles, seeming to touch the tops of the tallest trees, and Sam deals another round of cards, feet in Natasha's lap, the bottle of tequila significantly emptier than it was when they finished up training for a late lunch and decided to play cards. They started out with everyone, but T'Challa left to attend to some of his seemingly endless kingly duties and Wanda left about an hour in, none of them wanting to push her to stay. "I think I'll go to the medical suite and then to bed," Steve says, setting down his cards. "Don't stay up too late."

"Whatever you say, Dad," Clint says with a cheeky grin, and Steve just shakes his head. He seems to spend an awful lot of time doing that, with their new team line-up, and Natasha laughs softly as he leaves the room.

The clock is blinking balefully at them as the numbers tick towards midnight, and they continue with their long game of blackjack, scratching lines onto a spare sheet of paper, Natasha pulling ahead until Scott tosses his cards aside in defeat. But the tequila bottle is empty, and they begin happily sharing stories from their long histories as superheroes. "You know when we met?" Sam asks Scott, and he grins to himself, nodding. "I was the only one home because the rest had decided to take a team bonding weekend away in Europe. Someone had to stay behind to watch the compound."

"As I recall, you volunteered," Natasha corrects sweetly. "The thought of having the TV to yourself for a few days was your reason, wasn't it? You binge-watched _Parks and Recreation_ and refused to stop referencing it for weeks even though no one else got it."

"I also got beaten up by Tic Tac over here," Sam says, and Scott looks infuriatingly pleased with himself. "And I asked you not to tell Steve and you and Rhodey told him about a minute later. He called me and gave me a very stern lecture that night."

"He was a lot sterner over the phone than he was in person, he got so sunburnt," Natasha says, grinning at the memory. "But it was a nice place we stayed in, and I think it helped us bond."

Scott starts telling a story about a holiday in the South of France when his daughter was a baby, but the sound of a voice outside has them all turning. Brows lower in concentration, hands reach for concealed weapons and their stances become sharper, ready for a fight. The door opens, and Sam's hand tightens on his concealed pistol for a second before they all realise it's Wanda, coming in from the cold night wrapped in a heavy coat, smiling up at them. "I thought you'd all be in bed."

"Don't tell Steve we're not," Scott says, and she laughs, shrugging out of her coat. "We thought you were in bed."

"I just went for a walk," she says vaguely, not meeting any of their eyes. "I'll head up now." With a wave of her fingers she's gone, humming to herself as she ascends the stairs to the bedrooms, and Sam turns back to see both Natasha and Clint wide-eyed.

"Leaf in her hair," Natasha says softly, and Clint nods.

"Dirt on her skirt," he says, and Scott's jaw drops in shock. "And I don't think she's the type to just go for a walk on a very cold and completely dark night in a country she doesn't know that well."

"Oh my God, she was definitely meeting up with someone!" Scott exclaims, and Natasha frantically shushes him before Wanda overhears their gossiping. "Who do you think it was?!"

"There are a few palace guards about her age," Sam muses aloud, still gazing at the stairs. "She's a pretty girl, don't think it would take much to have one of them falling for her."

"But why would she leave the palace to see one of them?" Clint asks, and the question silences them for a moment as they all sink deep into thought. "It's not as if there's anything stopping the guards from talking to us. She knows none of us would stop her seeing someone."

"Maybe it's T'Challa," Scott suggests, and shrugs at the bewildered looks they all shoot him. " _What_? It's a possibility! When you're solving a mystery you have to look at every possible angle."

"We should leave it alone," Natasha finally says. "If she wants to keep it a secret, we should let her. Whoever they are, they're clearly making her happy. Just because we're a team doesn't mean we have to tell each other everything."

"So Steve doesn't find out about this?" Looking at Sam, she nods, and after a beat Scott and Clint nod too. They shake on it, and finally all head to their rooms.

Pausing outside Wanda's door, Sam can just hear her humming, imagining that she's drifting dreamily around the room in the wake of whatever she was doing - or _who_ ever. He'll have to keep an eye on her.

* * *

Winter takes hold of Wakanda slow as syrup, the air a little cooler, and Steve encourages them to train outside, running across the hard ground in all weathers. With a new bow on his back, Clint crouches in the branches of a tree placed neatly at the edge of the forest, half-hidden in the wringing wet leaves, looking for any signs of movement from the Wakandan trainee soldiers helping them with these new training exercises. A flare of red catches his eye, and he watches Natasha creep across the ground fondly, moving quickly and precisely, her hand never leaving the tranquilising gun in her holster.

Tensing at the sound of a snapping twig, Clint fires an arrow into the gloom, the pained hiss letting him know that his blunted weapons did their job - hitting hard enough to let someone know to step back, but not hard enough to cause any injury beyond the occasional bruise. Out of nowhere, Scott scrambles up to join Clint, making him swear in shock, one foot slipping as he starts. "Jesus, Scott, warn a guy!" he hisses, and Scott grins sheepishly at him between their perches. "Sam, how are you and Wanda doing?"

"Six out of ten hostiles subdued," comes Sam's voice, crackling through the comms. "We split up, thought we'd cover more ground to find the remaining four. You guys?"

"We've covered eight," comes Steve's voice, the inevitable success of his and Natasha's partnership. "Clint, Scott, where are you?"

"Looking from a distance, Cap," Clint says, and can hear Natasha's fond laugh. "We have nine hostiles subdued, closing in on the last. We'll be at the rendezvous point as soon as."

The earpieces crackle into silence after that, as Scott jumps lightly to the ground and Clint watches him approach the spot where their last enemy is, grinning as he notices their newest teammate mimicking Natasha's style of movement. He'll have to tell her how much of her teaching Scott has taken directly to heart, as he swings down the stout branches to the leaf-carpeted ground, fat raindrops pattering down on the canopy as he joins Scott at the side of the young woman waiting for them, holding her hands up in surrender as they approach.

"You're one of the last we've found," Scott says as they start walking towards the rendezvous point, and she grins smugly, darting into the trees and vanishing towards the meeting place for the Wakandan soldiers. "They're very hospitable here," he remarks cheerfully, and Clint nods in agreement.

Steve and Natasha join them after around fifteen minutes of waiting, covered in mud and both breathing heavily. "Our last one tried to deter us by diving headfirst into the mud," Natasha explains, scraping dirt off with her nail. "Luckily for us, we've dealt with worse."

"Good work, you two," Steve says, authoritative as ever despite the mud in his hair. "You make a good pair. We'll have to experiment further when we have more equipment." Scott grins smugly, and Natasha gives a fond roll of her eyes, and they settle into waiting, the pounding rain washing some of the dirt from Natasha and Steve's clothes.

Concern grows in Steve's eyes when they've been waiting for what seems like too long as night begins to creep across the sky and the air begins to cool, and reinserts his earpiece. "Sam, Wanda, what is your situation?"

Replacing his own, Clint hears Sam's voice frantic with worry, "...can't find her, she must've lost her earpiece. I found the four other hostiles myself, but I've been looking everywhere and she's just vanished."

Steve's eyes darken with panic instantly, and he turns on his heel to the rest of the team, Natasha and Scott both tense with nerves. "Everyone out there, spread out, and for God's sake keep your earpieces in," he orders, and runs at full speed back into the trees.

Squinting in the gloom beneath the thick ceiling of densely growing leaves, Clint hears Natasha's mutter of, "God, I wish we still had night vision goggles," through the earpiece and grits his teeth, trying harder to see. Scott is calling out, his voice echoing in the evening air, and every sound seems the approach of their missing teammate.

Finally, when night has truly fallen and every tree looms out of the mists, comes Wanda's voice calling back, repeating, "I'm here!" over and over again until they converge on her, waiting in the centre of a clearing, shivering in the cold, hair hanging lank and soaked over her shoulders. Scott wraps his jacket around her, and she stammers over her words as she explains, "I was chasing someone and I tripped, my earpiece must've fallen out, I didn't mean to scare you all."

Steve guides them to the edge of the trees, back towards the light of the palace and the promise of warmth and food, and that's when the emerging moonlight reflects on the silver earrings glinting in Wanda's ears, gently spinning in the slight breeze. Clint looks at them, then looks again, a little confused. He trained as a spy and assassin for years - he notices the smaller things, the details a lot of people overlook.

Even so, he sidles over to Natasha, putting an arm around her in disguise, and whispers, "Was she wearing those earrings this morning?" Natasha glances up, then shakes her head, and Clint grits his teeth. "Must be the secret admirer. Maybe we should investigate."

"I think we just need to keep an eye on the situation," Natasha hisses, and Clint nods sagely.

* * *

Christmas passes over Wakanda in a strange way, the kind of disconnection from the holiday Scott hasn't felt since he was in prison clinging to all of them. They try to celebrate, T'Challa providing bottles of wine and joining them for a quiet dinner in their quarters, filled with companionable laughter, but it can't be denied that it's the day they most feel the distance between them and their loved ones. Steve broods over his food, barely picking at it, and leaves shortly after the second bottle of wine is opened for the medical suite. Clint is very quiet, thinking of his children the same way Scott thinks about Cassie, about the family he left behind for what he thought was right - Hope, Maggie, Hank, even Paxton. Maybe Luis, Kurt and Dave too. They'll be celebrating together, in the house he was barely welcomed into before he was called to arms, and his heart aches with how much he misses them.

Pulling a cracker with Sam, shaking his head at the undisguised glee in Sam's eyes as he dons the paper crown and a ridiculous set of plastic glasses with a moustache attached, unrolling the joke to read to a half-asleep Wanda, T'Challa stands and warmly says, "This was a lovely occasion, but I have meetings to attend to. Please don't feel you have to end the party in my absence."

"The fun never stops when you're royalty," Natasha remarks, and T'Challa rewards her with a warm smile before he sweeps out of the room, regal as ever. Clint leans back in his chair, refilling his glass, and Wanda stretches like a cat before getting to her feet.

"I think I'm going to go lie down," she says carelessly. "Too much to eat. Merry Christmas." They return the sentiment in low voices, the pleasant sleepiness good food and cheerful company leads to settling over all of them.

But the moment Wanda disappears upstairs, Clint leans forward across the table and frantically says, "Okay, can we talk about our youngest member for a minute? Something is definitely going on with her."

"I have to agree," Natasha says. "Even if we should probably stay out of each other's business as much as possible, all these disappearing acts are worrying me. They just seem irresponsible."

"I was so scared when she wandered off during that training session," Sam admits, tongue loosened by the three or four glasses of wine Scott has watched him drink during the meal. "But she probably just sloped off to see whoever the person who's been making her all dreamy and happy is."

"Dreamy and happy is good," Scott interjects, to a nod from Natasha and an agreeable raise of his glass from Clint. "She was miserable when we first got here, we can't be mad at her for being happy. But lying to the team is a bit worrying."

"We can't afford not to trust each other," Natasha agrees. "But if she's not telling us, there has to be a reason. You have to wonder who she could possibly be meeting up with that she won't tell us who it is."

"I think from the tone of your voice you have an idea of who it is already," Scott says, raising an eyebrow at her, and she smirks over the rim of her glass. "Share with the group?"

"Not until we have more proof," Clint says sharply, and Natasha nods. "I don't know all of the facts, only what Tasha's told me and what I've picked up from my own observations. And unless anyone's volunteering to confront her, we'll have to keep watching her until she tells us or we get proof."

"I don't know if you two are hinting at what I think you're hinting at, but if you are then I don't know what you guys or Rhodey are talking about when you say there's an energy between them," Sam says, and Scott's eyes swivel to him in confusion. "It's called friendship."

"Oh Sam," Natasha coos gently. "You really are more of a soldier than a spy." Clint starts to laugh, and Scott joins in at Sam's utterly offended expression. It's then that Scott notices the lump beneath Wanda's abandoned napkin, and lifts the immaculate piece of linen to find a silver bracelet nestled in the tablecloth.

"Better take this up to her," he says, pushing his chair backwards with a grating screech. "If she's snuck off to see her secret lover we'll at least know." Clint laughs and Natasha shakes her head fondly, and Scott examines the bracelet as he ascends the stairs. It's pretty, probably genuine silver, piece twisted together in an intricate design that the wine-tipsy part of his mind wants to get lost in.

Knocking on Wanda's door, he's almost disappointed when she answers, obviously actually drifting into sleep after their dinner, not sneaking out to give them more fuel for speculation. She's taken her hair down from the style she wore for dinner, wearing a thick plaid sweater over her dress as she peers around the door and her eyes light up when she sees the bracelet in Scott's hand. "Oh thank God, I thought I'd lost it," she says, snatching it from him and sliding it back onto her slender wrist, smiling down at it.

"Pretty," Scott says, trying to sound breezy and light, not wanting her to guess their suspicions. "Was it a Christmas present?" She nods, beaming, and he oh so casually asks, "From who?"

"Steve," she answers. "He has good taste, right?" Scott nods, and she smiles at him before vanishing back into her room, affording him only a glimpse of the white-painted walls and dark furnishings uniform throughout their quarters.

Turning to head back downstairs and continue the party with the rest of the team, his mind is spinning. He might not be a thoroughly-trained spy like Natasha and Clint, but he's smart enough to notice that Wanda had a split-second hesitation before telling him Steve gave her the bracelet. It was a lie, it was almost definitely a gift from her secret romancer and he'll have to keep looking out for more presents appearing on her person.

* * *

Gloved hands clamp down on his arm, gently extracting him from the cryo-tube, and he's wrapped in a heavy dark blanket as he sits shivering into a rigid chair, frantic eyes searching for familiar faces in the sea of white-clothed doctors. Steve stands on the other side of a window, eyes very blue in the stark white of the medical suite, arms folded over his chest as if he's holding himself together, and Wanda is walking towards him. He notes the silver bracelet on her left wrist, the earrings twisting slowly from her ears and the gentle smile on her face. "What month is it?" he asks.

"April, Sergeant Barnes," comes the deep, soothing voice of one of the doctors, nodding to him with a smile meant to put patients at ease. "You have been unconscious in our suite for almost a year. We've awoken you today to give you good news. Ms. Maximoff believes that she will be able to use her powers to remove the trigger words from your mind and allow you freedom from HYDRA."

He looks up at her, remembering the broken, shivering girl hunched over herself during the journey to Wakanda in T'Challa's sleek jet, the girl who cried silent tears through the hours of soothing nonsense whispered to her by Natalia, the girl whose screaming nightmares awoke everyone for the first few nights in the palace. "Are you sure?" he asks, hoping she won't be offended.

"Absolutely," she says, putting a reassuring hand on his elbow. "I've had a year of recovery time, and plenty of practice pulling things from people's minds and replacing them with something else. It shouldn't take me long. I can undo what they did to you, Bucky."

Privately, he can't dare to hope that she'll succeed - not after seventy years of being the fist of HYDRA, the words all they gave him to believe in - but for the sake of the reassurance in her eyes and the hope in Steve's across the glass, he nods. "Will it hurt?"

"I don't know," Wanda admits, stretching out her fingers, red beginning to play between them. "I'll try to be quick and not to go further into your mind than I have to. I know you can't want that." She moves behind him, pressing her fingers to his temples, and he closes his eyes and grits his teeth, his hand curling into a tight fist in anticipation of the pain that will come. He's had his brain played with so many times that he knows it can't be painless.

Wanda's power is like a spark in his mind, scarlet glowing behind his eyes, he can feel her moving through his memories, brushing past the things she doesn't need to know and finding the darkness of the formula HYDRA placed within him. From what he sees behind his squeezed-shut lids, it seems as if a mist of red winds around the ten words that can make him into a monstrous machine, and they seem to disintegrate, one by one. So slowly, a weight peels itself from his shoulders, and he breathes easily for what must be the first time in seventy years as HYDRA's grip on him grows weaker, loosening until it finally falls away altogether, like a shroud.

He sucks in a sharp gasp at the sudden feeling of such freedom, and opens his eyes to Wanda at his side, eyes filled with concern. "I think I did it," she says, her voice quiet and hesitant, seemingly filled with awe at her own feat. "How do you feel?"

"It was like I saw the words being pulled out of there," he says, and she smiles in relief. "Thank you." She just smiles, and squeezes his elbow before she moves aside as Steve enters, and doesn't hesitate before wrapping Bucky into a tight hug.

"If you're prepared for it, Sergeant Barnes, we can take a few measurements and begin structure on a new prosthetic for you," the doctor says, and the joy in Steve's smile is brighter than the weak sun behind the windows as Bucky takes in the sprawling view of the jungle. "King T'Challa has offered to gift you a new arm, and I think you'll find that vibranium is a far better material for the prosthetic you need than your previous one."

"Sure," Bucky says, and Steve finally moves far enough away from him that he can catch Wanda's eyes again, and nod at her. "How long did that take, really? It didn't feel like long."

"About two hours," she says, and his eyes widen. He wasn't expecting that. "I hate to leave you, but I'm late for a sparring session with Clint. I'll be there for about two hours, but I'll see you at dinner." Steve smiles at her, envelopes her in a brief but no less grateful hug, and they watch her leave and turn towards the training centre.

The measurements and the tests to make sure his body is functioning as it should take over an hour, but Steve escorts him straight to the team quarters when the tools are finally set aside and Wakanda's considerably talented medical team wave them away. He still looks at Bucky like he expects him to disappear any second, and Bucky has to smother a laugh at the shock in Scott's eyes when he walks into the common room. "I have to have a quick meeting with T'Challa," Steve says apologetically. "But it won't take long." Addressing the rest of the team, he sternly says, "Be nice."

"I wouldn't dream of anything else!" Sam exclaims in a falsely offended tone, and Bucky rolls his eyes, grinning at Natalia when he sees her do the same.

Steve leaves the room, and Clint's voice comes from the kitchen, calling, "You want something to eat, Bucky? Or just a coffee?"

"Black, no sugar," Bucky says, and takes a seat in one of the available armchairs, unsure of his place in the room occupied by Scott, Sam and Natalia, a clear strength of friendship between them. "Did you finish up early in the training room, Clint?"

"Haven't been there all day," his reply comes, and Bucky's suspicions pique, a slight worry crossing his mind.

"Wanda said she was going to train with you until dinner," he says, and doesn't miss the look Scott and Natalia exchange, eyebrows raised. "What's going on?"

"She's been sneaking off at random times for about six months," Natalia explains. "We think she's doing it because she's been meeting up with someone she's romantically involved with. There have been gifts appearing out of nowhere, but we don't know who it is. If you just want to join us in keeping an eye on her, that would be great."

* * *

Mist rises from the jungle in the warmth of a new day, and T'Challa watches the drills of the training soldiers in the courtyard as Secretary Ross' voice continues to hum on and on from the speakers at either side of the highly-polished desk in his study. "Fury has been in touch, blowing this all out of proportion," he's saying gruffly, and T'Challa tries not to scoff at the idea that the man Natasha, Clint and Steve all speak of with a certain measure of reverence and the utmost respect could be blowing anything out of proportion. "If he gets in touch with you, you tell me first. He's already be onto Stark and his team, trying to find out where the prisoners escaped to. I won't have him dragging those criminals back into the US."

"Of course not, Secretary," T'Challa says smoothly, long years of diplomatic training adding that soothing charm to his voice, even as another line begins to blink orange with a call and an eyebrow arches, the possibilities of who it will be ironic in consideration of the Senator's long and blistering attack on each of them. "If we hear anything about the fugitives, you'll be the first to know. But the situation remains the same - we have no idea where they are, and I doubt any of them would try to contact myself or Wakanda. You would probably be better narrowing your search - in worrying times such a these, they may try to seek out families and friends they left behind."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Ross says, his voice unpleasantly oily, lacking any kind of charm across the line. "I'll check in again in a week - earlier if we receive any intelligence on the current situation."

As the line goes silent, T'Challa shakes the unpleasantness of the conversation off, and notices the new warmth in his voice as he accepts the call from the second line. "Director Fury, how wonderful to hear from you," he says. "I've just had Secretary Ross on the other line, telling me you've been blowing things out of proportion."

Fury lets out a dark chuckle, and says, "That man won't admit that the world is stranger than he can comprehend until it all blows up in his face. You'd think the man who dealt with the Hulk as a military general would be a little more open to all of this strangeness."

"How is the strangeness looking?" T'Challa asks, and Fury lets out a heavy sigh, indicating instantly that circumstances are changing since the vague warning of something a few weeks earlier.

"Thor came crashing into headquarters a few days ago, covered in blood, said there'd been an attack on Asgard and he suspected whoever orchestrated it was after the infinity stone they're holding there," Fury explains, and T'Challa absorbs the information, knowing he'll have to recount it to the team in a meeting. With their imprisonment and subsequent disappearance, their clearance levels have been erased - they have no way of accessing the information they need to be kept up to date with. "The attack wasn't successful, but we intend to treat this as confirmation that someone out there is hunting down the infinity stones. We only know the location of two - there are four more out there."

"And what of the Avengers still living at the compound?" T'Challa asks, knowing that Natasha in particular will want as much information as he can glean about the roles of those she left behind in the brewing storm.

"Tied up in legalities," Fury says, a heaviness behind his words. "Ross has Stark and Rhodes attending to petty crime. Vision doesn't seem to be leaving the compound - the UN don't know what to do with him. Thor is on Asgard, helping with cleanup, and Banner is working in our labs, keeping an eye on radiation signatures for anything unusual. Parker is still a vigilante, Stark has been helping him move towards stepping into the public eye. We're hoping to recruit him once the UN realise how serious the threat is if someone is collecting infinity stones and lifts the law to let our mightiest heroes work for a living. And your collection of fugitives?"

"Anxious for news, Banner managed to send word of what he knows and got them a little panicked," T'Challa answers, and he can hear the disapproval in Fury's heavy sigh. "They want to help the fight, whatever they're up against. If you are able to persuade the UN to allow them back, they'll be there within the day."

"If I know them as well as I think I do, they'll show up regardless of what the UN says the moment this all goes to shit," Fury says, and T'Challa can't help the chuckle that escapes him. He may not have known the group very long, or have seen them at the height of their fame as Fury has, but he knows enough of them to believe what Fury says. "You better go and tell them everything I've told you. Don't let them try to get in touch - Ross is watching us closely. Wait for SHIELD to come to you - or Stark."

When T'Challa leaves his study, Natasha is hovering outside, hands clasped behind her back and eyes searching for cues in his body language. "Meeting in your common room, now," T'Challa says, and she nods, darting off to round up her team, heels clicking on the hard floors.

Lang has clearly been dragged from sleep to attend the meeting, eyes puffy and fingers wrapped tightly around a mug of coffee. Wilson sits straight in his chair, worry adding lines to his face. Barnes is still and silent but for the gentle humming of the mechanisms in his arm, the dark vibranium gleaming sleekly. Clint, Natasha and Steve sit in an attentive row, poised as leaders, until Clint looks around and says, "Someone get Wanda, she needs to hear this too."

Noting Lang's head drooping slightly onto his chest, T'Challa says, "I will attend to her, since I've awoken you all so early. With what Fury has told me, a more rigorous training regime needs to be implemented - you can begin planning." Half-asleep, Lang groans at his words, and the corner of T'Challa's mouth twitches with a hint of laughter as he leaves the group in the beginnings of what will no doubt become an argument, sweeping up the stairs to the bedrooms he assigned to each of the seven people who came under his protection almost eighteen months ago.

Hearing the low buzz of voices, presumably the radio or television, T'Challa raises a hand for a polite knock on Maximoff's door. The noise stops immediately, there's a flurry of footsteps, and she pulls the door open only wide enough for him to see a strip of her face, flushed pink, her eyes edged with panic and her smile a little thin. "I'm sorry for getting you out of bed, but Director Fury called with vital information and we're having a meeting to discuss it," he explains, and she appears to relax a little.

"I was in the shower, you didn't wake me up," she says, a little too fast, words bleeding into each other. As if to prove it, the door yawns open a little wider, showing the towel wrapped hastily around her, her fist wrapped tightly into the thick cotton. "I'll be just a minute." The door closes again with a pointed snap, and he descends back into the thick of an argument between Natasha and Wilson about increasing stealth training, pondering a little.

When Maximoff joins them, it's with an ostentatious yawn, and she nods when Lang sympathetically asks, "Did this drag you out of bed too?" With only a momentary frown at her, T'Challa begins to explain the situation, watching eyes grow darker with worry and looks exchanged between the group speaking volumes of the fear they normally hide.

The meeting finishes with pages of scribbled plans covering the table, everyone's handwriting blurring together in battle formations and training regimes, so intertwined that it will surely be a nightmare to decipher when they've calmed a little from the revelation. Lang goes straight back upstairs for further sleep, Maximoff leaves into the sunshine with little more than a vague goodbye and Steve wanders off with even less explanation than that. "Trying to contact SHIELD," Natasha observes, tutting slightly as she shuffles the papers into a slightly more organised pile. "Since our profiles were erased he can't access the network anymore, and he wants to talk to Fury himself."

"I saw him finally drop his pride and put a call through to the compound last night," Wilson says, and Natasha, Barnes and Clint all look suitably shocked and impressed. "Rhodey answered and he put the phone straight down, but I guess it's some kind of progress."

T'Challa cracks a small smile at the laughter that fills the room, but his mind is still occupied, and Clint looks to him and asks, "Something wrong, Highness? Besides the obvious possible madman trying to destroy the world with the power of alien stones none of us understand heading for us?"

"If you must know, I think Ms. Maximoff lied to either myself or Mr. Lang," he says, and the look the four others exchange makes him believe that his suspicions are not unfounded. "When I went to get her, I heard voices in her room, and she told me that she'd been in the shower, but told him she was asleep."

"Shit," Barnes says, sounding a little impressed. "She's getting bold, bringing whoever into the palace while we're all here. Must be someone special."

"You have no idea," Natasha remarks, lifting an eyebrow at him, and turns to T'Challa. "We should fill you in."

By the time her briefing, complete with insertions from the three other men in the room, is finished, T'Challa is sorely tempted to surprise Maximoff and see if she truly is hiding a lover in her bedroom. But he settles for resolving to keep a far closer eye on the young woman, and remind the guards that every point of access should be closely monitored as threats begin to circle the world.

* * *

Waving away another offer of wine from a young palace guard, noticing the bright eyes and flushed cheeks of someone who has had a little too much to drink, Steve watches the team in the centre of the summer celebrations, a fond smile slipping onto his lips. Natasha is dancing with Scott, laughing as he proves hopeless at the simplest steps, clumsy with the strong Wakandan liquor. Clint is guiding a trainee guard around the floor, her face lit up with laughter. Sam and Bucky are talking at the edge of the proceedings, little to no good-humoured animosity in their faces and body language, Sam gesticulating a little too enthusiastically, the only outward sign of his drinking.

"I'm pleased to see your team are enjoying our festivities," T'Challa says from behind him, and Steve gives the man they owe the last twenty months of safe living in Wakanda to a warm smile. A glass of wine in one hand, T'Challa comes to stand beside him, looking down at what seems to be the country's entire population happily spinning through the ballroom, and remarks, "But you are missing a teammate, Captain."

"Wanda wasn't quite finished getting ready," Steve says with a slight shrug, not missing the flicker in T'Challa's eyes. "She said she'd join us before it gets too late."

"She is a lovely young woman," T'Challa says, a certain quality to his voice that Steve can't identify. "I have several of our trainee guards with crushes on her. Having your team around has some potential recruits a little distracted, Captain. I've heard conversations about all of you."

Laughing, Steve says, "Fury used to tell us that we were to stay out of the SHIELD offices because we distracted the interns," and T'Challa smiles. Smiling at the memory of the young man who missed the entirety of a lecture from Maria because he was busy gazing at Natasha in a meeting with Fury, Steve's gaze flickers to the door when he hears an excited shout from Sam and Bucky, and his breath catches as Wanda joins the room, head held high and her entrance drawing many eyes.

"Holy shit!" Scott's exclamation is loud enough to be heard from the balcony, as is Clint's subsequent burst of laughter. Steve has to agree with Scott's eloquent observation - as Sam goes to her side and offers a dance, Wanda looks stunning, her eyes bright and a glow appearing to shine from her bright as the sun, enhanced by the red dress and familiar silver jewellery.

"She is simply radiant tonight," T'Challa observes, and Steve nods silently, watching her laugh at something Sam says. "My father always used to say nothing could make anyone as beautiful as being in love."

That catches Steve's attention, and he knows his eyes are wide as he looks at T'Challa, the man staring at his shock with a seeming lack of understanding. "In love?" he splutters, and understanding dawns in T'Challa's eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You don't know?" T'Challa asks, and Steve shakes his head in frustration. "Your team has harboured suspicions for a long time, Captain. I was informed of this after our tactical meeting when Fury first explained the coming threat, when I told them of something I had noticed. They believe that she has been secretly meeting with someone whenever she gives a feeble excuse for disappearing, and seeing her tonight you can't deny that someone has put that shine into her. Haven't you ever seen a woman in love who knows her love is returned?"

For a moment, Steve wants to brush the suspicions aside - Wanda trusts them all, why would she hide a relationship with anyone? She knows they would support her happiness as they always have, as they would do for anyone in their team. But as he lets the words tick through his mind, and more and more memories surface to support the idea - the sudden appearances of new jewellery or clothes on Wanda's person, her disappearances for hours at a time she would always return from starry-eyed, her frantic panic if a training session or meeting lasted longer than scheduled - and he sucks in a sharp breath.

"Oh my God," he breathes, and T'Challa only nods. "And the whole team knows?"

"I wouldn't call it knowing," T'Challa says. "No one wants to confront her in case she becomes angry or scared. But, between them, your team have gathered solid evidence of a secret relationship, if not who it is."

Looking down at Wanda, spinning into Scott's embrace and laughing, hair flying, Steve simply says, "I think I know who it is."

* * *

Hunched up in an armchair, Natasha casts another glance towards the firmly closed door of the study where Steve and Tony are having their negotiation, monitored by the neutral party that T'Challa represents. Glancing around the room, she returns the smiles Bruce and Thor both give her, glad for a chance to see her former teammates again if nothing else, and looks further for Scott and Hope talking on the balcony in the bright sunlight, Clint and Sam teaching Peter how to play poker and Bucky and Rhodey talking in low voices, as easily as if nothing had ever happened.

Finally, T'Challa emerges from the room, rousing everyone from whatever distractions they've found to pass the long minutes awaiting the decision of their two leaders, and Steve and Tony both follow. "We will all be returning to the compound today," Steve finally says, and Sam cups his hands to his mouth for a celebratory whoop that ignites a nervous bout of laughter. "But everyone has to be briefed on what we're facing. This is going to be an extremely dangerous fight, and anyone who wants to step down rather than face this threat is absolutely allowed to do so.

When Steve falls silent, brooding, Tony clears his throat and says, "Could we make sure everyone is here to talk?"

Throwing down his cards, Peter stands and announces, "I can do that, Mr. Stark!" with an enthusiasm that would never be seen in someone who'd been in the business longer than him. It's almost charming, and Natasha tries not to let a smile break through the seriousness of the moment as Peter rushes to the stairs, heading up to the bedrooms where several people are lurking, using the hours of waiting for sleeping or reading.

Not thirty seconds later, the relative quiet is disturbed by a yell of shock that has everyone instinctively reaching for their weapons, and clattering on the stairs precedes Peter's entrance. He's crimson in the face, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, and returns hastily to his seat. Following closely behind, apologising frantically and breathlessly, comes Wanda, as scarlet as her codename, and, to the dropping open of Sam's mouth and a sharp gasp from Tony, Vision.

For a terrible moment, the room is silent, taking in the dishevelled appearances of their teammates. Natasha's eyes flicker over him first - the untucked shirt, the lipstick mark on his collar, his chest heaving - then her - the wrongly-buttoned cardigan, the undeniably ruffled hair, the dark smudge on her neck that no one could call dirt.

Then, unbelievably, Rhodey starts to laugh. As everyone's gaze swivels to him, hunched over his immobile knees in his wheelchair, he turns to Sam, grinning from ear to ear, and shouts, "I told you so!"

If possible, Wanda turns an even deeper shade of red, and the tension breaks. Bucky is pressing his lips very hard together to keep a straight face, Scott is leaning on the wall to stay upright with the force of his laughter, and Tony simply looks shell-shocked. Crossing the room to the couple, Thor claps a hand on each of their shoulders and booms, "About time, my friends!"

It sends another ripple of laughter through the room, even T'Challa chuckling quietly to himself, and Rhodey wipes tears of mirth from his eyes and asks, "So, settle a bet - how long has this been going on?"

Obviously trying very hard to stay composed as Wanda hides her face in her hands, Vision stiffly answers, "If you're referring to our physical relationship, twenty months and thirteen days." Peter lets out an embarrassed squeak, and Hope ducks her face into Scott's shoulder to hide her giggles. "But our feelings for each other have been there since we met."

"Oh God," Sam croaks. "I really am a terrible spy." That starts Rhodey off again, Clint quickly following him, and it takes at least ten minutes for the situation to calm enough for Steve to hold up his hands and get relative silence.

"What I want to know is why you two felt the need to keep this a secret from us," he says, his voice taking on the stern commanding tone he usually only uses in training or the battlefield. "None of us would've begrudged you happiness."

Raising her helplessly flushed face from her hands, Wanda answers in a shaky, quiet voice. "I was scared that if you found out, if anyone found out, you'd stop us seeing each other. And I know it was irrational, but once we started being able to see each other I didn't want it to stop. I couldn't think about our feelings for each other being found out by the wrong person and used against us."

The atmosphere calms, as everyone hears and perfectly understands her words. Then Vision clears his throat and adds, "And we found it sort of exciting. The sneaking around."

Bruce's eyebrows shoot up beneath his hair, and Tony chokes on his coffee in a most undignified manner, shooting pale brown flecks down his shirt and allowing Steve to pound him very hard on the back in lieu of helping. Poor Peter is almost purple with his blush, shrinking down in the armchair as if trying very hard to wish himself away from the situation, and Natasha gets gracefully to her feet to say, "We have risks to talk about and plans to make for returning to the compound. That's what we should be focusing on."

"Thank you, Natasha," Tony says pointedly, but the look he gives her is pathetically grateful, and she smirks to herself as Steve begins to outline the full extent of the risks their facing.

Watching Wanda and Vision during the meeting, she notices the love there even if neither of them says is. It's the way he always seems to be touching her in some way, no matter how subtle, the way she looks at him first whenever the very real threat of serious injury or death is mentioned, their bodies curving towards each other as if drawn by magnets. She doesn't begrudge them keeping their happiness to themselves for all those months - in their situation, she would probably do the same.

But it is rather lovely to be jolted awake by turbulence during their journey back to the compound in New York and see them kissing openly in the jet, pressed together by the close quarters, smiling against each other's mouths.


End file.
